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- Title: Personal Memoirs of U. S. Grant
- Author: Ulysses S. Grant
- Narrator: Jim Clevenger
- Length: 35:31:37
- Version: Abridged
- Release Date: 10/08/2016
- Publisher: LibriVox
- Genre: Biography & Memoir, History & Culture
- ISBN13: SABLIB9783661
The gravelly whisper of Jim Clevenger’s narration in this LibriVox production immediately transported me back to those Oaxacan evenings with Abuela Rosa – that same sense of leaning in close to hear wisdom passed through generations. There’s something profoundly intimate about listening to Ulysses S. Grant recount his life story in this free audiobook edition, as if we’re gathered around some spectral campfire where the Civil War’s smoke still lingers.
What struck me first was the surprising vulnerability in Grant’s writing. Here was the Union general who’d brought the Confederacy to its knees, dictating his memoirs while dying of throat cancer, yet his prose carries none of the bluster you might expect from a military titan. Instead, we get startling clarity – both about battlefield maneuvers and personal failings. I found myself pausing the narration frequently during my morning walks through Brooklyn’s Prospect Park, needing to sit with passages where Grant describes watching young soldiers march off to die ‘for a cause they didn’t fully understand.’
Clevenger’s narration deserves special praise for capturing what I’d call the ‘Grant Paradox’ – that combination of Midwestern humility and steely resolve. His voice has the texture of well-worn saddle leather, perfect for conveying Grant’s matter-of-fact descriptions of Shiloh’s horrors or his quiet disgust at Southern plantation cruelty. There’s a particular moment when describing Lee’s surrender at Appomattox where Clevenger’s pacing slows just enough to let Grant’s magnanimity breathe – it reminded me of watching sunset over the Atacama, where the landscape itself seems to whisper ancient secrets.
As a travel writer who’s spent years documenting how places shape people, I was fascinated by Grant’s geographical consciousness. His descriptions of maneuvering through Tennessee’s river valleys or assessing Vicksburg’s bluffs reveal a mind deeply attuned to terrain. Listening to these passages while riding Amtrak through the Hudson Valley last month, I began seeing the landscape with Grant’s tactical eye – noting how certain ridges would control river traffic, how particular valleys could conceal troop movements. Few military memoirs achieve this level of immersive topography.
The audiobook’s greatest strength might be how it captures Grant’s evolving relationship with slavery. Early sections about his Missouri childhood carry subtle discomfort, while postwar reflections on Reconstruction burn with moral clarity. Clevenger navigates this arc beautifully, letting us hear Grant’s growing awareness – that moment when a man realizes his personal story has become inseparable from his nation’s reckoning. It’s a transformation I’ve witnessed in other forms, from Buenos Aires taxi drivers recalling the Dirty War to Cambodian guides explaining the Killing Fields.
Some listeners might find the tactical details overwhelming (the 45-minute description of the Vicksburg Campaign nearly lost me during one cross-country flight), and the LibriVox recording occasionally shows its volunteer-production roots with inconsistent audio levels. But these are minor quibbles when weighed against hearing Grant’s voice – both literal and literary – preserved with such care. The chapters covering his presidency feel particularly revelatory, offering insights into Reconstruction that most history textbooks gloss over.
Compared to other Civil War memoirs I’ve encountered – from Joshua Chamberlain’s poetic grandeur to Sherman’s fiery polemics – Grant’s account stands apart for its quiet authority. There’s a reason Twain called it ‘the best military memoir since Caesar,’ though I’d argue its true power lies in the spaces between battles: Grant worrying over supply lines, mourning lost friends, or puzzling over how to rebuild a shattered nation. In our age of performative leadership, such unvarnished reflection feels downright radical.
With one ear always tuned to history’s whispers,
Marcus Rivera
